Awakening
by WIWJ
Summary: Not sure if this is a one shot or not. It's supposed to be a slump buster based on the question I wonder if Fi ever asks. If someone had called him from a Miami hotel and said she was hurt, would he have come? Would he come for her? Post S4.


I don't really know what happened. It was a job, an easy one actually. I defiantly didn't think that it was going to go as wrong as it did. Obviously, Fi didn't either by the care free way she'd been lounging back from her mounted assault rifle, her sunglasses on, elbows propped on the wall behind her.

She kind of gave me a curious look when the first shot hit her. Like she was asking me if what was happening was actually happening. I remember looking at the red stain spread against her peach tank top. I remember Sam screaming into the walkie. Then I remember hearing another pop.

…...

I know this much is true. I should have been the one standing there next to Fiona and I am going to have that thought in the back of my mind until the day I die.

I'm not saying I would have seen something Jesse woulda missed, I'm just saying that since Mike's been gone, it's been my job to keep an eye on her. (Don't ever let her know I said that. _Ever_.)

Actually, you know what? I'll tell her myself. Maybe then she'll wake up and kick my damn ass.

We've been here five days waiting for Fiona to wake up.

"Honey." Madelyn's voice is soft, but it's the only new sound in the room for over an hour, so I jump. "It's time to wake up now. It's time to wake up and start getting better so you can go home."

I watch her face for any sign that she knows we're here. There isn't any. There hasn't been any.

"_It could be weeks,"_ the doctor has told us, "U_ntil we know the extent of Ms. Glenanne's brain damage. If there is any." _

They always add that hastily at the end. I wonder if it's because of the death glare that I send them?

"Sam tell her. She listen's to you."

"No." I chuckle. "No she doesn't."

"No." Maddy whispers, tearing herself from Fi's bedside and huffing at me. "She listen's to Michael."

"Jesse's trying." I remind her.

"Jesse should be resting. He was shot too you know!" She grumbles.

I do know. Two .22's one in his left forearm, another grazed the left side of his skull. I know exactly where, because I was desperately trying to determine the depth of the head wound with out removing my hand from the hole in Fiona's chest.

Then even more desperately while to breath for her, yelling at him to get up with each pause in action.

Then came the moment that I realized it was time to stop and call for help.

That was the hardest part, knowing when to stop _breathing for Fiona_ long enough to call for help.

It took about a minute, maybe two.

It felt like forever, watching her chest not rise as I rattled off a location.

Watching her mouth hang open motionless as her blood warmed my fingers.

"Sam?" Maddy's voice makes me jump and her eyes soften. "You did a good job." She tells me when she realizes where I just was in my head. "She's alive Sam."

I look at her,_ barely_ . Barely alive.

…...

I rub at my temple, carefully avoiding my stitches despite how badly they itch and how much I want to rip them out, and sigh into the phone again.

"I realize that. I realize his status is level two clearance. I also realize I only have level three, but his _girlfriend_ is half **dead** in a Miami hospital and I think he'd like to know that!" I snap. The man on the phone finally relents and I lean back in my chair. "Thank you. That's all I'm asking. I was only asking for you to try."

I close the phone against my shoulder and run my right hand over my casted left arm. My leg bounces methodically beside me. I should have had my guard up.

I should have had my game face on. I failed her and I failed Mike. The one thing he said to me after his brief trip home was to watch out for them. His family. Maddy had at least been making that easy but Fi and Sam that's different all together. Sam thinks he's still twenty five and Fiona thinks she's invincible. Though. Thinks? I'm not really sure and that makes me sick.

I'm not really sure who Fiona Glenanne will be when her eyes open. If they open.

I knew it was bad when Sam showed up in my hospital room looking gray. I knew it was our worst case scenario. I knew it was Fiona.

It's not exactly a macho thing, more a buddy thing. The last thing you want when you're buddy's off in the field fighting the bad guys is to tell him you let something happen to his girl.

But we did let something happen. Something bad.

…...

My girlfriend is the last thing on my mind the moment I get the call.

Actually it's a text, from Jesse's number.

_Fi's been hurt. Get here asap _

Those six words tell me all I needed to know. It's bad. She's alive, but it's bad. Bad enough that Jesse had to go through channels to get a number for me. Bad enough that I have to get there.

It doesn't say _call soon_, or _we'll keep you posted_. It says _get here_.

So I stand up from the table, apologize and run out of the hotel.

I probably cost my country thousands of dollars, and hours of work. I probably disrupted a frail alliance. I may have even prolonged a deep mistrust.

I could not care less.

_Fi's been hurt. _

I pay cash at the airport and get on the first flight that was going in the right direction.

_Get here._

All the internal dialogue about her vs the job, about duty vs love.. it all went out the window with six words.

My mind goes back to an argument about her staying in Miami or not staying. An argument about why she should or shouldn't.

"_Would you have come for me?" _She'd asked me breathlessly once she'd relented and accepted my poor excuse of a consolation prize love.

I was still busily drying her tears and smoothing her hair and the question caught me off guard.

"_What?" _

"_If someone had called and said I was hurt in Miami?" _

I don't think I answered her. I think I may have kissed the question away. I'm not sure. I certainly wasn't sure of the answer then.

I'm sure now. I'm sure even for four years ago, I would have stopped mid sentence and rushed to her.

…...

The room is dark and quiet when the door swings open and my son stumbles in. He's a mess and I have to say I'm glad. I'm glad because it lets me know that I have not been wrong about him all this time.

Sam wasn't sure he'd come, Jesse was pretty sure he wouldn't. And I think if Fiona could have been involved in the discussion she would have told us, hands down, that we were wasting our time. She would have told you, with out a doubt, that Michael Westen would not be in attendance anytime soon.

She would have been wrong and I've never been so happy to be right.

"Mom?" He whispers painfully looking towards Sam passed out in his chair.

"Oh Sweetheart." It's all I can say. He's not looking at me anymore anyway. He's crept towards her, his hands reaching out and skimming her leg, up her body to her torso before stopping at the mess of tubes and wires and tape that is the rest of her.

His forehead pinches and he drops his fingers on top of hers mournfully..

My chest aches for him. I stand slowly.

"Hold this one Honey. It's not connected to anything." I coax lifting her hand in mine before handing it to him. He takes it, shaking his head at me in disbelief. I pat his shoulder as he takes my chair. "The bullet tore a hole in one of the arteries of her heart." He pales even more and I consider not continuing until I watch his stare narrow. He's steeling himself for the rest. "Sam kept her alive until they got her to the hospital. She lost a lot of blood and oxygen to the brain was cut off for a while."

Michael's other hand has slipped to her cheek, his thumb grazes over tape his index finger brushes her eyelashes. He takes a deep breath before lowering his head to their clasped hands.

"Brain damage?"

"They don't know Honey. She has to wake up." I say before Sam groans and we both turn to him. He stretches, straightening when he see's Michael.

"Sam." My son whispers.

"Mike." Sam looks like he might cry. "I'm so sorry, Brother."

"It's not your fault." He whispers, pursing his lips against Fi's hand. "Not your fault."

…...

"Fiona." I whisper inches away from her ear, my fingertips playing over her face. The tape and tubes are gone now, her pale smooth skin makes my senses hum. "Fi, I need you to wake up now."

The doctor looks at me, giving me an encouraging nod. He's holding steadfast to their theory that she's waking up. She doesn't look like she's waking up to me.

"Fiona? I came." I plead, pressing my lips together to avoid crying in front of the medical staff. "I came. I'm here and I want you to open your eyes." She stirs and I gasp. The doctor looks at me again. "Fi." My voice is louder now and her eye brows crease. "Fiona open your eyes!"

She blinks like a switch has been flipped, her eyes wincing at the light. I stare at her, my lips parted in amazement. Her eyes focus and she looks suspiciously at the doctor, then the nurse. I can hear her heart rate increase on the monitor behind me.

"Hey." I sooth, carefully touching her cheek. "Fi." Her face turns slowly to me and her eyes latch onto mine. "Hi." I watch her wide frightened eyes before smiling. "Hi. You're in a Miami hospital. Mount Si. You were hurt pretty badly, so it's okay to be confused. Fi. It' s okay." I cup her face, my thumb tracing her cheek bone. "It's all okay now."

She makes an attempt to speak, to clear her throat, and I shake my head. She tries again before he scratchy whispered voice makes me smile.

"You're here?" Her hand makes it's way to my face, dropping half way and landing against my clavicle. She can feel me swallow back my tears with her fingertips.

"I'm here." I say, the grin spreading. "I'm right here."


End file.
